


Help I'm Alive (My Heart Keeps Beating)

by defcontwo



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/pseuds/defcontwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hesitates to call the Avengers friends - she has never been quite comfortable with the word. Ally has always been easier, a more manageable term that she could abandon when things went awry. But it is undeniable that whatever they forged on that day, up against gods and beings that she could never have dreamed of, was considerably more than a mere alliance. (Spoilers for the movie, comic backstory)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help I'm Alive (My Heart Keeps Beating)

There are many who assume that she remembers everything with perfect clarity, every single moment of her very long life stretching out in her memory, as bright as if it had just happened. The human mind doesn't work that way, of course, even if hers had never been tampered with. Although it is nice to imagine what it would be like if she still remembered the color of her mother's eyes or the sentiment behind the scarf that her father wore every year of her life until his death. 

There was a song that Ivan used to sing, an old Russian folk song, and she still wakes in the night to the lyrics on the tip of her tongue. They're always lost by morning. 

It bothers her, sometimes, not unlike a splinter stuck just under the skin. But she knows that she remembers the important things, all of the little moments that make up who she is. She remembers Ivan, near death, and saying _yes_ in a panic, rushed voice, not yet knowing what she's gotten herself into. She remembers the feeling of snow seeping into her threadbare boots as she held a gun for the first time. She remembers a metal arm and a rough voice, a man she loved once, who is probably long dead by now. 

She remembers the secrets that have kept her alive all these years. 

She remembers August 23rd, 1942, as the day her city began to burn. Tsaritsyn, her mother used to call it, refusing to break herself of old habits, before her father would hush her and remind her, _it's Stalingrad now_. 

She remembers August 30th, 1942 - the day her whole world burned. 

\+ 

_August 30th, 2012_

The sun shines bright and hot, as Natasha settles herself at a cafe in Prenzlauer Berg. It's not uncommon for a German summer's day to turn overcast, fierce storms lighting up the sky in such a way that could rival the work of her new Asgardian friend. 

She hesitates to call the Avengers friends - she has never been quite comfortable with the word. Ally has always been easier, a more manageable term that she could abandon when things went awry. But it is undeniable that whatever they forged on that day, up against gods and beings that she could never have dreamed of, was considerably more than a mere alliance. 

The weather appears to be holding firm, so Natasha shakes herself of these thoughts, and chooses a table outside. She orders a cappuccino from the waitress and sits back, back stiff for all that she's trying to relax. 

The weight of the day feels heavy upon her shoulders. Yesterday, she was in Prague, tracking intel on whatever madcap plan Doctor Doom has come up with next. Mission complete, she should have returned to New York, but nightmares of a burning building and her mother's screams made the decision for her. 

She wanted to be where she felt comfortable and for better or worse, she has always felt comfortable in Berlin. She loves this city, in spite of herself, in spite of all the time that she once spent here, doing things that she cannot regret but bears the burden of nonetheless. 

She read a book once that said for the people of Berlin, it would take them far longer to tear down the wall in their head than the physical wall that tore them asunder. She thinks perhaps she can relate. Perhaps that's why she always finds it so easy to return here. 

Part of her always feels a little foolish on this day, ruminating on the loss of parents who have been dead for seventy years. It's more than just the loss of her parents, though - the death of her parents was the first turning point in her life, setting her on the path to where she is today. Everything that she is started that day, when Ivan pulled her from the wreckage of her childhood. 

"I am not so lost in my thoughts that you can sneak up on me, Captain," Natasha says suddenly, and smiles at the sheepish shuffle of feet that lets her know her guess was correct. 

Captain America visits the memorials at Normandy, paying homage to his fallen friends. It was all over every newspaper in the world, Steve smiling tightly for the cameras, polite but clearly resenting the intrusion. It wouldn't have taken him long to make his way over here on a SHIELD jet. 

Steve makes his way around and sits down in the seat across from her, comically too large for the petite, wrought iron seats the cafe had chosen.

"I heard you were in the neighborhood, I thought that I'd say hello," Steve says and Natasha can't help but laugh. There are many things that Steve Rogers excels at - military tactics, commanding troops, getting the hang of computers with surprising adaptability - but lying is not one of them. She should know, she's read his now-updated file from front to back. 

The waitress comes over with Natasha's cappuccino and does a double take at Steve. Even in civilian clothes, he's instantly recognizable but the waitress recovers well, Natasha admirably notes. 

Steve answers the waitress's query in a soldier's basic German, stating that he's just here to keep Natasha company. While she walks away, Steve settles back in the chair, and smiles hesitantly, and suddenly Natasha knows. 

"Who told you?" Natasha asks. "Was it Director Fury or was it Clint?" 

"Clint," Steve admits, because he is a man who knows when honesty is best. "He meant well. He probably thinks that we could help each other." 

Natasha looks at Steve and she sees a man who slept, cold and oblivious, for seventy years. Seventy years beneath the ice while she lived and fought and lost more of herself than she can ever take back. She can't decide if she envies him that sleep or not. 

"How did - " Steve starts and then stops. 

"Let's just say that the Soviet Union had their own projects," Natasha says, answering his unfinished question. 

Steve, seemingly sensing that that's the last she wants to speak of it, nods. "I thought it would be different. Berlin, I mean. I thought that it would be so different that I wouldn't find my way." 

"1961 was the first time I was here," Natasha says. "It's remade itself many times over since then but there's still so much of the Berlin I used to know that I never get lost." 

"You don't strike me as the kind of woman who gets lost all that often, Natasha," Steve says. 

She laughs. "You'd be surprised," she says, and they both know she's not quite talking about geography. 

They sit in comfortable silence for several minutes, Natasha sipping her coffee and Steve watching the people as they pass them by on the sidewalk. When her coffee is done, Natasha realizes that Steve has been humming lowly for quite some time now, familiar bars just under his breath. 

"Are you humming Sugar Blues?" 

There's that sheepish look again, Natasha notes, as Steve says, "I'm surprised you recognized it. I never could carry much of a tune." 

"I saw Ella Fitzgerald once. I was on a mission and - well, orders had me at one of her shows." 

"How was she?" Steve asks. He is genuinely interested in her answer, as if it could fill in part of the puzzle for all that he's missed, a part of the life that he never got to live, as Natasha realizes that no, she doesn't envy him his sleep. 

"She was brilliant," Natasha says. 

Steve nods, thoughtfully, and she can almost see him filing this piece of information away. 

"I'm glad I came here," Steve says, looking out at the street once more. 

"You know what?" Natasha says, as she starts to think that perhaps the word "friend" isn't too far off after all. "I am too."

**Author's Note:**

> \+ the quote about Berliners and the Wall is from _Wall Jumper_ by Peter Schneider, which is an excellent read, highly recommended. 
> 
> \+ Sugar Blues by Ella Fitzgerald was first released in 1940. 
> 
> \+ embarrassingly, I refer to their friendship as my precious WWII-era babies, what can I say, regret nothing chicken.gif
> 
> \+ This is un-beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.


End file.
